My novel sucks. But it usually does. I went off on a long ramble in an attempt to hit 10k words this morning. I need to write 4k this morning to be back where I’m supposed to be by now. “Supposed to be” is relative, of course. I’m sure if I focused I could actually be close to done. I just get easily distracted by shiny objects, like the “Watch Instantly” feature on Netflix that was finally released to beta for Macintosh. I may never leave my comfy chair again.
Here’s the excerpt for you. Not criticism is allowed, the whole point is to write, not to write well.
I flipped open my phone to read the text message. I have to do that because of the model phone I have. It is so funny, if this were 10 years ago, I would be so mady in love with this phone, and the simple act of flipping it open would give me thrill like no other because it is so futuristic and I could pretend I am James T. Kirk. Not that I wouldn’t do that even if I did not have a flip phone that looks a bit like a tri-corder. I want to state for the record that I am not a science fiction geek, but I am a television geek and while the two may seem very similar they are very different. The only reason I think having a tri-corder phone is cool is because it was on a famous television show. Actually, I would probably be just as excited to have the telephone on the wall from Lassie or the one at the top of the telephone pole from Green Acres. Okay, the last part might be a little bit of a stretch. While I am a huge Green Acres fan, the thought of having to climb up to the top of a telephone pole to answer the phone or make a call is a little daunting to me. Daunting might not even be the right word, but after a while, I’m pretty sure I would balance an old-fashioned answering machine up on the top of the pole and never answer the phone again. That’s another thing. In today’s world of phone company voice mail, there is no way in hell I could ever get to the top of a telephone pole to answer the phone before it went to voice mail.
You know, it occurs to me that I have not had to watch an episode of Teletubbies in a good 8 years. I could not tell you if it is even possible to watch an episode if you wanted to. As Martha would say, that’s a good thing.
But to this day, it is etched into my brain with the shaky hand of a youth with one of those wood burning kits. Ya, I know, ouch.
I still say “Tinky Winky all full up.” It may or may not drive the people forced to live with me crazy. I cannot help this, it’s just the way it is. So when it was time to write a post about how I have successfully filled up the hard drive on my laptop, I wrote the title up at the top without a second thought. But that’s not true, because I did have a second thought, a little bit later. I left the title the way it was anyway. I’m like that.
So my hard drive is full. Let me just spit that out before my mind wanders any further and you’re left wondering what the hell made you read this far. I am trying to burn data to disks before either moving it to the backup drive (I’m anal. I trust nothing, especially an external backup drive). I have successfully given myself 3 whole gigs of free space, which will at least allow me to run the computer without worrying that it will begin to throw fits. I want to be the only thing at my desk throwing fits, doncha know.
I found an email address at the Huffington Post where you can request permission to reprint or use some of their material. I found that really funny, so that’s the email address I wrote to, because I figure THAT recipient would understand the importance of asking permission.
All I said is that I wanted someone to point out to Mr. Alcindor that just because something is located using a search engine doesn’t mean you are free to take it and use it as you want. And yes, I understand that these days you’re taking your chances whenever you post anything to the web, because people steal and steal and steal. One chick had her [not nude] self-portrait taken from Flickr and used in dirty magazine which was VERY VERY BAD because a)she didn’t want to be in a dirty magazine and b)she was under 18. It’s hard for people like me, who have seen all their ad revenue and amazon referrals run completely dry, so that we don’t make ANY money doing this, lose their unique ideas and creative work used elsewhere without permission. I typically grant it whenever asked. But you hafta ask, people.
Saw a “news” article this morning that something is planning to sell Jerry Garcia’s stereo speakers and bidet.
The thing he used to clean his arse with.
Okay, no offense, but why on earth would someone want to own such a thing? I know that there are people out there who are gigantic fans, still, of his, but really, do you need his bidet? What about his toilet, he probably used that a lot more than the bidet. Or was there a urinal cake somewhere that he peed on?
It looks like the proceeds from this sale will be going to charity, so I’ll cut them a little slack, but please, people, if any of you want to buy my used appliances, contact me offline so we don’t have to deal with the embarrassment of holding a public auction.